  Sweet resting place! that long hath been A boon Elysian 'mid the din Of city life, 'mid city smoke; Where weary ones who toil and spin Have turned aside as to an inn Whose swinging sign a welcome spoke; Where misanthropes find medicine In peals of laughter that begin With ancient, resurrected joke, Or ready wit of harlequin; Where children, free from discipline, Take on Diversion's easy yoke. Its charming paths, its sloping height, Its beautiful and broad expanse, Must one approach in witching night When, like abodes of airy sprite Revealed unto the wondering glance, O'erflooded with electric light Than Luna's beams more dazzling bright, Illumined nooks the scene enhance; While zephyrs mischievous unite The timid stroller to affright By swaying boughs in shadow dance. The Capitol that crowns the hill Where Boreas sweeps with icy chill, A masterpiece of studied art Conceived by genius versatile And fashioned with unerring skill, O'erlooks the busy, crowded mart, And, like a kingly domicile, Its burnished dome and sculpture thrill With admiration every heart; And strangers pause beyond the rill To view its grandeur, lingering still, And with reluctant steps depart. That marks success (though near to foil) Of one who with prophetic ken, With honest zeal and ceaseless toil, Opposed the vandal wish to spoil This lovely bit of vale and glen; Who, 'mid discussion and turmoil Of adverse minds, did not recoil From vigorous stroke of tongue and pen; And then, till passion ceased to boil, On troubled waters poured out oil And to his plans won other men. So when, fatigued and overwrought, In summer time when skies are hot We seek its verdant, velvet sward, Oh may we hold in reverent thought The debt we owe, forgetting not The spirit passed to its reward Of one whose giant soul was fraught With true benignity—who sought To touch humanity's quick chord With fire from Heaven's altar brought, That love and zeal and being caught As inspiration from the Lord. |
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